


Like a Bad Penny

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agent Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - James Bond, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Hacker Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Skyfall References, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 20:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: Derek lifted the gun, putting Stiles in the crosshairs as he waited for his aim to steady. His arm was heavy, his aim wavering a little. He knew he wasn’t the same ever since the fall. He wondered how this was going to end if he did pull the trigger.Was he going to hit the glass, or was he about to put a hole in Stiles’ face?“Did you think he loved you?” Jennifer fiercely uttered, narrowing her gaze. “Or maybe you thought you loved him. That you were finally capable of loving someone that would actually care—”The shot rang out.(Or, the James Bond AU no one asked me for...)





	Like a Bad Penny

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a little AU that I decided to finish off, cause it has been sitting in my folder FOREVER.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

“It’s not a clean shot,” Erica stated as she looked down the scope at the oncoming train. She had a window of opportunity, knowing the moment that the train hit the tunnel, they’d lose everything. She watched through the scope as Derek struggled with the unknown assailant, both of them furiously trying to overpower the other. “Ma’am, I repeat, it’s not a clean shot—and the tunnel is coming up.”

“Can you get to higher ground?” Claudia asked as she leaned against her desk, just over the intercom emitting Erica’s voice.

“Negative,” Erica answered. “I don’t have time.”

Claudia paused, weighing the pros and cons. She had faith in Derek, always believing in his abilities to get the job done—with or without the finesse some of the other agents used. But she couldn’t risk the lives of every allied agent when she knew Derek’s abilities had been slipping. “Take the shot.”

The office turned eyes towards Claudia, all staring at her to confirm they heard her correctly.

“Derek isn’t clear,” Erica quickly countered.

“I said take the shot,” Claudia nearly snapped.

Erica pulled the trigger.

Derek’s body stumbled backwards upon impact of the bullet tearing through his chest. His footing was lost, his body falling off the train and plummeting down into the water below the bridge.

The office waited with baited breath since the shot rang out over the speakers.

“Agent down,” Erica’s voice softly confirmed the dreaded inevitable as she watched the train pass through the tunnel, the assailant getting away.

Claudia’s hand shot out, her fist slamming against her desk in anger. “Damn it!”

~*~

Stiles typed away on his laptop as he worked on another firewall. His earbuds nestled in his ears as he listened to his playlist. He looked up at the random people rushing by his spot. He hesitated, looking at the folder that landed on his desk. He looked up at the person who dropped the folder off.

Lydia placed her hands on her hips as she observed Stiles. “Having fun?”

Stiles pulled the earbuds out of his ears. “It’s not my fault our firewall is easy enough for me to hack on a laptop.”

“That would be why you’re being promoted,” Lydia stated.

“I’m being what?” Stiles asked as he looked at her.

“Congratulations, Quartermaster,” Lydia stated with a smile. “You’re being assigned as the new Quartermaster to a dozen 00s.”

Stiles stared at Lydia. “00s? Are you _insane_?”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles. “You should be excited that you’re moving up in the world. You’re the youngest to make Quartermaster.”

“You know what people will say,” Stiles countered.

“I know what people would say if they even knew,” Lydia answered. “You’re the best kept secret this organization has.”

Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed. “Is this a punishment from the new M?”

“Only you would see a promotion as a punishment,” Lydia sighed. “You’re scheduled to meet 009 tomorrow morning. Your touchbase is set for an exhibit—”

“009?” Stiles started, looking from Lydia to the file. “009 was declared KIA.”

Lydia looked at Stiles. “He was. Now he’s back. He should be well rested, at least.”

~*~

Stiles lingered by the entrance to the room, turning his head slightly to observe those around him. He wasn’t trained fully on being a field agent, having been pulled before his training was complete when his mom fell ill. He almost regretted it, knowing he could have benefited the agency—and himself—if he knew how to handle a dangerous situation on his own.

Stiles had read the file M had dropped on his desk about Agent 009—Derek Hale. He had voiced his complaints against 009’s reinstatement, seeing the failed marks on his physical and psychological tests. He had been told to keep quiet—that it was above his control and that his job was to equip the agents with tools to succeed, not to coddle them.

In the end, despite it all, it made Stiles feel a little better to know that Agent 009 was in the same space during their heightened terror level.

009 was a gorgeous man—there was no way around it. He was able to charm his way out of situations—and into the bed of any target. He was well-learned, having a mastery of several languages and cultural customs. He had trained his body in several different fighting styles, altering his hand-to-hand expertise in combat allowed him to overpower his enemies quickly. His marksmanship was exceptional. He also had no family to worry about him, making 009 the perfect candidate for the 00 program—no one left to mourn his loss.

Stiles wondered if there was any part of the old 009 left, or if the events leading up to his assumed death stripped him down to nothing more than Derek Hale.

Stiles spotted Derek sitting in the center of the viewing room, essentially becoming the masterpiece on display. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, hiking his messenger back up higher on his shoulder as he started towards Derek. He altered his hold on the case in his hand, rehearsing what he was going to say to Derek when he sat down. He focused on remembering to talk about the items he was about to hand Derek—determined not to ramble. He took a the seat next to Derek on the open bench, sitting close enough that their knees would touch if Stiles chose to bounce his leg acutely more.

~*~

Derek shifted his weight onto his left side as he leaned far enough away from the young man to observe him carefully. He arched his eyebrow in question as he took in his young and lithe appearance. He wondered if the kid was lost, mindlessly wandering in a museum of fine arts with little care.

The kid was young, if his complexion had anything to say about it. His skin was fair and in good condition, but there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, nor a grey hair that suggested he’d seen more than two decades of life. His shoulders were broad, a surprising trait that accompanied his long limbs and slender fingers. His glasses hung off the bridge of his nose, almost too small to cover his eyes completely. His leg animatedly bounced as he waited.

“Kind of makes me sad,” the kid started as he looked at the painting they were both facing. “Seeing artwork lining the walls of prestigious museums, when the artist only painted it to feed themselves.”

Derek shuffled his weight some, never having a desire to discuss artwork. The art world was Laura’s love, not Derek’s—he had no refined tastes for such things, as Laura put it.

“What do you see?” The kid asked.

Derek stared at the portrait in front of them, seeing that there was a giant naval vessel. “Dried paint,” he gruffly answered as he moved to stand, adjusting his jacket slightly. “Excuse me.”

The kid looked at Derek, clearing his throat when Derek started to stand. “009,” he firmly stated.

Derek reluctantly sunk down into the bench once more. “You have got to be kidding me,” he uttered.

“I’m not making a joke,” the kid answered.

“You’re the new Q? What happened to Abigail?” Derek asked.

“Maternity leave,” Q answered. “I’m Stiles,” he started as he offered his hand to Derek.

~*~

It wasn’t uncommon to overhear Stiles and Derek bickering over the comms. Stiles would be typing away at his computer, keeping track of Derek’s location and the target. Derek would be trying to perform whatever physical feat Stiles thought was humanly possible.

“I said it was possible for _you_ , not any ordinary human,” Stiles countered.

“I was almost flattened by a train,” Derek growled.

“ _Almost_ , 009, almost,” Stiles playfully stated as his eyes tracked the motion on his monitor.

“And I’m _almost_ going to kill you when I get back,” Derek answered.

Stiles had learned long ago that Derek never held true to any of his threats when directed towards him. He knew he could push the boundaries with Derek, whereas he kept up a barrier between himself and the other 00’s under his care.

Derek may have been the prickliest 00 in the program, but he wasn’t the meanest. And Stiles figured that out the hard way, discovering that more than one 00 didn’t enjoy his particular brand of sarcasm.

007 had been the one to break another agent’s hand when they tried to punch Stiles in retaliation for one of his jokes. Allison had seemed unhindered when she grabbed the fellow agent’s hand, quickly twisting and breaking the bones before releasing him.

Stiles kept silent after that, his friendly banter with Derek even dying down. He kept to himself, typing up the report for the evening when Derek had arrived at the underground safe house. He continued to type, unafraid of irritating Derek for ignoring him. He needed to stay focused, he needed to not listen to the voices in his head telling him he was about to break down.

“I’m alive,” Derek announced, watching Stiles.

Stiles paused his typing, finally looking up. He noticed that they were the only two in the Vault. He nodded, “You’re like a bad penny, always showing up.” He knew it sounded hollow.

“What’s wrong?” Derek calmly asked, seeing how tense Stiles’ shoulders were, the way Stiles’ typing appeared more erratic.

“Personal,” Stiles barely answered.

Derek took a step towards the computer, noticing how Stiles didn’t move. He reached a hand forward, leaning over the desk to grab Stiles’ hand, stopping the incessant typing. “You’re not chastising me for almost dying. You’re not making fun of me for being too old for this job.”

Stiles tried to curl his hands away from Derek’s hold.

Derek tightened his hold, not letting Stiles get away. “You’ve been like this for over a week.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles stubbornly answered.

“No, you’re not,” Derek replied.

“I said it’s personal,” Stiles snapped as he looked up at Derek. He looked away, not wanting to face lying again.

Derek let go of his hold on Stiles, allowing the silence to grow between them.

“My mother is dead,” Stiles finally stated. “She died a week ago. We knew it was coming, but …” He closed his eyes.

“But you had hoped for a miracle,” Derek finished.

Stiles released a bitter laugh. “Yeah. It’s why I hide behind such sarcasm,” he offered as he looked up at Derek. “I like to look like I don’t give a shit.”

“Take some time for yourself, Stiles,” Derek started.

Stiles shook his head.

“Lydia can help us for a few days,” Derek countered.

“I can do it, Derek,” Stiles quickly stated.

“But you don’t have to,” Derek replied.

Stiles looked up at Derek.

“You once told me, the reason I’m needed is that sometimes there is a trigger to be pulled,” Derek offered. “In order for me to do that, I need you to be in the right headspace.” He continued to search Stiles’ eyes for a sign of refusal as he walked around the desk to stand beside him. “I need you, Stiles. And that means I need you to take a break.”

Stiles reluctantly nodded, wiping his hand over his face as he tried to hide his tears.

Derek pulled the handkerchief from his jacket pocket, reaching out to dab away the tears collecting in Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles released a watery scoff as he took the handkerchief from Derek’s hands. “You’re treating me like one of your marks,” he commented as he looked down at the handkerchief. He had seen Derek offer his handkerchief to more than one sobbing woman when he confronted them about their involvement with some less than reputable men. He always pitied Derek when it happened.

“There’s a difference,” Derek simply offered.

“And that would be?” Stiles asked as he used the soft material of the doubtlessly expensive cloth to wipe his tears off his cheeks.

“I actually like you,” Derek answered.

Stiles looked up at Derek.

Derek tore his gaze away from Stiles, looking around the Vault to see that they were indeed alone. “Come on,” he gestured for Stiles to get up from his station. “Let’s get you home.”

Stiles slid off his chair, grabbing his coat and bag.

~*~

Stiles rolled onto his side, grabbing his phone as it continuously rang. He saw that it was his dad. “Hello?” He sleepily answered the phone as he sat up in his bed.

“Hey, kiddo,” John’s voice greeted, a small sadness still evident despite his best attempts to cover it up.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles answered, drawing his knees up close to his chest.

“I wanted to check in with you,” John explained. “Make sure you’re not working too hard.”

Stiles mindlessly picked at the sheets twisted around his legs. “I took a break,” he half-heartedly offered.

“Doesn’t sound willing.”

Stiles partially snorted. “An agent made me,” he replied.

“Derek?” John knowingly asked.

Stiles silently turned his attention towards the door leading into his bedroom. He saw Muse—his cat—jump down from the couch as she meowed at the movement in the kitchen. “Yeah,” he softly answered.

“He’s a good guy,” John commented.

“He is a good guy,” Stiles confirmed, curious if Derek was listening.

“Your mom really liked him,” John’s voice tinged with sorrow. “Anyways,” he started as he cleared his throat. “I’ll see you later tonight, right?”

“Of course, dad,” Stiles answered.

“Alright,” John replied. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you, too, dad,” Stiles stated in parting. He pulled the phone away from his ear, clicking the end button on the call. The lock screen flashed to show his background. His thumb pressed over the image of his mother’s face, reminiscing of the moment the photo had been taken. It was the last family outing they had together, years ago before Stiles even was considered by the agency. He hated how secretive it had to be—how his mother had to take an authorized leave of absence before he could even see her. It was the last time they were all together before her illness took over their lives.

The bed dipped under a weight much heavier than Muse.

Stiles clicked the lock screen off, turning his attention towards Derek. He offered a small smile as he rested his chin on his knees. “Hi, stranger.”

“Hi,” Derek answered, his attention being pulled to where Muse meowed from her place on the bed beside them. He reached a hand out to lazily scratch at her chin.

Muse started to purr, her body scrunching up as she twisted around and rubbed up against Derek, wrapping her tail around his arm as she practically vibrated with joy.

“Are you this popular with all women?” Stiles joked, still amazed that Muse hadn’t tried to claw at Derek after being kicked out of the bedroom last night.

“And men,” Derek replied as he looked at Stiles.

“Should I regret last night?” Stiles asked, hugging his arms around his knees.

“Do you feel regret for last night?” Derek asked instead.

“What we’re doing could get us both in trouble,” Stiles replied.

“You’re a damn good Quartermaster, and I’m a damn good agent,” Derek started.

“Decent agent,” Stiles playfully corrected Derek. He laughed when Derek wordlessly grabbed his ankles through the sheets, yanking him down the bed. He reclined his body out on the mattress, hearing Muse indignantly meow at the sudden jostle of movement. He smiled as Derek crawled over him, feeling weightless as Derek kissed him.

Derek’s body blanketed Stiles, his arms pulling Stiles up into his embrace as he deepened their kiss.

Muse silently jumped onto Derek’s back, peering up over his shoulder to look down at Stiles. She playfully pawed at Derek’s ear to try and get his attention.

Stiles gently bit Derek’s lip when he began to pull away.

“Your cat is on my back,” Derek simply stated, turning his head to catch Muse jumping off his back and onto the bed.

Muse meowed as if she was innocent of whatever Derek accused her of.

Stiles lightly chuckled as he leaned over the bed’s edge to grab one of Muse’s many toys scattered across his apartment. He grabbed the small, feathered toy bird that she loved to throw around.

Muse’s body became alert when she caught sight of the toy.

Stiles threw the toy out of the bedroom, watching as Muse ran after it. “Now you can interrogate me, Mr. Hale,” he uttered in his cheesiest Russian accent.

“If we’re role playing, we’re going to need handcuffs,” Derek answered.

“Bottom drawer of the nightstand,” Stiles replied without missing a beat.

Derek arched an eyebrow at him.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh.

~*~

Derek was in the city of Macau when he saw Stiles again. It had been over a month, with little to no interaction with him. He opened his hotel room door, certain he was going to find a threat, only to find none other than Stiles standing in the hallway.

Stiles looked at Derek, a faint smile on his lips as he looked Derek up and down, taking in Derek’s appearance. “Room service,” he uttered with a smile as he leaned against the doorframe.

Derek smirked, releasing his hold on the door. “I didn’t order room service,” he replied. “Not even you.”

Stiles smiled at that. “I have information,” he stated as he slipped passed Derek. He brushed shoulders with Derek as he looked around the room.

“You’re a little too important to just be sending off into the field,” Derek replied.

“Are you afraid I’m going to take advantage of your current, unarmed state?” Stiles questioned as he looked at the towel wrapped around Derek’s waist.

“It’s cute you think I’m unarmed,” Derek replied as he walked by Stiles to get to the bathroom.

Stiles snorted out a laugh as he turned to follow after Derek.

“M already debriefed me on the list and what is at stake,” Derek started as he applied the shaving cream to his face. He caught the look of disappointment flashing across Stiles’ face. “Which leaves the tantalizing question—”

“I came here to keep an eye on you,” Stiles replied as he entered the bathroom, walking over to Derek. He reached his hand up to take the straightedge razor from Derek’s hands.

Derek looked a little surprised, even as he allowed Stiles to take the razor from him. He turned his body towards Stiles, allowing him access to his face.

Stiles moved to the side, lifting himself up to slide onto the edge of the sink. He spread his legs to house Derek’s waist between his thighs. He pulled Derek in closer using his feet to hook around the back of Derek’s knees. “Don’t move,” he playfully stated as he reached up to start shaving away Derek’s beard.

Derek’s hands pressed against the edge of the sink, his arms brushing against Stiles’ legs. He lifted his head to allow Stiles access.

“The higher ups have decided that you’re a valuable asset,” Stiles started as he pulled the razor across Derek’s cheek. “But that you like to throw yourself into unnecessary danger. So I’m here to make sure you keep yourself … _intact_.”

Derek snorted. “Bureaucrats.”

Stiles’ smile faltered. “Maybe that’s why they sent me,” he answered. “They knew I had an invested interest.”

“I doubt they know that,” Derek replied, his hand moving to caress Stiles’ hip. “You’re the best at what you do.”

“And you do this all the time, or so I’m told,” Stiles answered, his hands steady as he continued to run the razor across Derek’s skin.

“How long has this been going on?” Derek asked, as if he didn’t remember the months of rules they had been breaking.

Stiles gave him a look that told Derek he didn’t believe him.

Derek softly chuckled at that. “Have you the slightest inkling that I might have strayed away from us?”

Stiles finished off the last angle, taking a look at Derek’s freshly shaved face. He placed the razor down into the sink, grabbing the warm towel Derek had placed on the counter. He ran the warm cloth across Derek’s face, wiping off the remains of shaving cream scattered here and there. He pulled the towel away from Derek’s face, leaning in closer. “You tell me,” he whispered as he dropped the towel.

Derek leaned forward, pressing his lips to Stiles’.

Stiles pulled Derek in close, smiling into their kiss as he pulled the towel from around Derek’s waist.

~*~

Stiles hugged his pillow, propping his head up with the fluffed material. He smiled to himself when Derek pressed a delicate kiss into the curve of his back, just at the base of his spine.

“Missed you,” Derek softly spoke against Stiles’ skin, his fingertips caressing Stiles’ hip.

“Missed you, too,” Stiles answered. “It’s the only reason I agreed to M’s directive to come here.”

Derek hummed against Stiles’ skin, his lips traveling along the moles across Stiles’ back.

“He wants you benched,” Stiles confessed, finally looking back at Derek.

Derek looked up at Stiles. “What for?”

“He thinks you’re going soft,” Stiles replied.

“Getting old, you mean,” Derek huffed as he moved to get out of bed.

Stiles turned to sit up, the sheets wrapped around his legs still. “You know I don’t think that, and I’m aware of what you actually go through on this job.”

“He’s a bureaucrat,” Derek countered.

“And our boss,” Stiles commented.

Derek turned to look at Stiles once he had his trousers on. He looked away as he grabbed his shift, slipping it on with minor aggression. “And everyone acts like his predecessor was soft because she was a woman.”

Stiles shifted his weight, hugging his knees. “They say she lost her mind in the end.”

Derek snorted at that as he sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled his socks on before grabbing his shoes. “She made tough decisions.”

Stiles watched Derek, staring at his back. “She gave the order that got you shot,” he commented.

Derek’s movements slowed some, his body languid as he dropped his foot down from the bed’s edge. He turned to look at Stiles. “Who told you that?”

“Lydia gave me your folder before we met,” Stiles honestly stated. “It was listed as one of the main reasons she was let go—and now that the list she managed to let slip away is making its appearance,” he paused, shaking his head as he sighed. “They find themselves justified in burning her.”

“I heard she died from illness,” Derek answered, not paying attention to Stiles as he stood up. “They must have caught wind, and then used those errors to push her out.”

“Must have,” Stiles hollowly echoed as he finally moved to stand.

~*~

Stiles watched Derek from afar, keeping his eyes on the armed men moving around the casino. “I thought you had a plan,” he uttered, moving to place his hand against his ear.

“Don’t do that,” Derek stated as he walked over to the exchange window.

Stiles let his hand drop. “Forgot,” he sheepishly offered.

“You’re doing fine,” Derek stated in reassurance, turning his head to aimlessly look around, smiling when he saw Stiles drinking champagne.

“Please tell me you have your gun and radio,” Stiles uttered.

“I wouldn’t have left without them, thank you.”

“Remember, the gun won’t fire—”

“Unless I’m the one holding it,” Derek finished Stiles’ sentence. “I don’t give my gun to just anyone.”

Stiles snorted at that.

“Though, I’d much rather be in the hotel room right now,” Derek stated. “Without the gun.”

Stiles hummed in agreement. “Naked in the sheets, no doubt.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you need an invitation?” Stiles replied, smiling when a waiter offered him another glass. “If you take much longer, I don’t think I’ll be conscious enough to enjoy it.”

“That’s quite the incentive,” Derek replied.

“I thought you’d see it my way,” Stiles commented when he saw that Derek was actually heading towards the cashier window to start the trade.

Derek turned his attentions towards the cashier, sliding the talisman under the panel. He noticed the look of interest on her face as she recognized the coin.

“Three stooges are coming your way,” Stiles uttered into their comm.

“I know,” Derek stated under his breath, catching sight of the armed men in the window’s reflection. “I’m sure you just want to talk, right?” He asked as he turned to look at the three men who crowded around him.

~*~

Derek had no clue how everything became so fucked up. There wasn’t much he could do to stop the men, not when Stiles was being forcefully lead around like a rag doll. He hadn’t realized that they caught on to Stiles, not when he was trying to flirt the list’s location out of Jennifer.

Derek turned on the barstool, looking at the men as they walked in, watching as Stiles stumbled forward.

Stiles tightened his hold on the man’s hand that had a hold on his hair like a vice grip. He released a sharp noise of pain when the man yanked his head back, putting his face on display for Derek.

“You’re very good, Mr. Hale,” Jennifer uttered, her accent slowly vanishing. “But you’re not the best at this.” She smiled at Derek when he finally looked back at her.

“Station H,” Derek uttered. “Hong Kong, am I wrong?” He asked, pretending to be unhindered by the fact that Stiles was now a bargaining chip.

Jennifer smiled. “I was M’s favorite agent then,” she stated, reaching a hand out, nails pressing down and scraping across the skin of Derek’s neck. Her hand moved to travel over to Derek’s shoulder, hovering over the hidden scar the bullet hole had left. She pressed down hard, smirking when Derek winced at the sharp pain. “M never liked us enough to keep us safe—but you never got to know her little secret.”

Derek grabbed Jennifer’s hand, tightening his hold on her as he forced her touch away. He saw how the man tightly yanked Stiles upright, a knife being snuggly pressed up under Stiles’ jaw.

“Don’t spoil it yet,” Jennifer harshly snapped at Derek. “I have plans for us.”

Derek reluctantly lifting his hands up when Stiles wheezed in pain, the knife on Stiles’ neck drawing forth a small drop of blood to roll down his throat.

“We’re going to have so much fun.”

That was the last thing Derek heard before a firm hit to his head knocked him unconscious.

~*~

Derek woke to a strange, vacant room filled with over a dozen computing servers. He turned his head to look at Jennifer, seeing her typing away on a laptop with her back to him. He observed the room, noticing that there were two armed men with them, but Stiles was nowhere to be seen. He pulled against his restraints, knowing he wouldn’t be able to escape, not with the armed men standing guard.

“Where is Stiles?” Derek finally demanded.

Jennifer laughed, her body relaxed as she turned to look at Derek. “Mr. Stilinski is currently _indisposed_ ,” she answered as she turned to look at Derek finally. “Are you that keen on seeing him again?”

“Where is he?” Derek repeated.

“Depends on you,” Jennifer replied. “Who knows, after this conversation, he may be in several places soon enough.”

“He has nothing to do with this,” Derek countered.

“Oh, he has _everything_ to do with this,” Jennifer corrected Derek. She smiled at him. “You never asked him, did you?”

Derek remained silent.

“Why would someone who ranks so high on the tests be placed as Quartermaster?” Jennifer aimlessly questioned. “So much potential, but held back by blood connections—it’s a shame, really.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek tiredly questioned her.

Jennifer smiled. “He never told you,” she nearly whispered to herself, a sick joy curling deep in her features. “Oh, this is grand—I thought I wasn’t going to get my revenge on her after she died, but this is so much better.”

Derek narrowed his gaze at Jennifer when she came to sit before him.

“Look what she did to you,” Jennifer uttered, pulling the buttons of Derek’s shirt open.

Derek carefully observed Jennifer, noting, “Well, M never tied me to a chair.”

“Her loss,” Jennifer answered. “A loss I’m sure Stiles hasn’t suffered.”

Derek didn’t react when Jennifer’s fingers caressed across his chest, tracing along the scar the bullet left.

“Do you think he let you into his bed because of the guilt he felt?” Jennifer asked, looking at Derek. “Mommy never forgot those agents that died under her supervision, but she never brought it home for dear little Stiles to know of. But you … oh, you were her favorite. And Stiles was too smart not to figure it out, especially when the agency came for him.”

Derek stared at Jennifer, trying to determine what she was exactly saying.

“He knew who you were when you met,” Jennifer continued, moving to run his hands along Derek’s thighs, a smile on her lips. “Felt guilty for mommy’s mistakes—then she just goes and dies, and you were right there for him. Poetic, really.”

Derek remained silent, not giving her anything to toy with.

Jennifer laughed at his stoicism. “Come, I have something to show you,” she playfully uttered, moving to untie Derek’s restraints.

~*~

“Time to redeem your marksmanship skills,” Jennifer uttered as she walked away from Stiles, a smile on her lips. “We both know you don’t want anything to happen to that pretty face—especially a bullet,” she laughed when Derek glared at her. “The first person to knock the glass off of Stiles’ head is the winner. And to be sportsmanlike, I’ll let you go first.”

“I would prefer my own gun,” Derek replied as he looked at the old single shot pistol Jennifer had pressed into his hand.

“Yes, well, Ennis prefers your gun,” Jennifer stated as she gestured towards the tall brute pointing a gun at Derek.

Derek turned his head to look at the man, seeing that it was indeed his gun in the man’s hand. He was glad there would be one less trigger-happy goon to handle.

“I want to see if you’ll risk his life,” Jennifer uttered, grabbing Derek’s chin as she forced him to look away from Ennis. “I want to see if he was more than a fuck,” she whispered in Derek’s ear, gently nipping at his earlobe.

Derek kept his gaze on Stiles.

Stiles’ hands were tied in front of him, his head held high as he tried to shuffle his weight without tipping over the glass. He was hunched, clearly trying to ease the pain of a bruise along his ribs, despite the way he winced with each breath. He had a black eye, his bottom lip split. It was evident that he had been beaten numerous times, perhaps even during Jennifer’s little chat with Derek.

“Come now,” Jennifer sighed when Derek didn’t do anything. “He lied to you.”

Stiles kept his head straight, feeling some of the scotch tipping over the glass’s edge as it dripped into his hair with every breath he took.

“He’s the reason you’ve been pulled back into this pathetic life,” Jennifer added. “Do you honestly think that if his mother had a shred of decency, you’d still be stuck here, drawn back into this game?”

Derek lifted the gun, putting Stiles in the crosshairs as he waited for his aim to steady.

“It’s a young man’s game, Derek, don’t think you were special,” Jennifer pressed. “He knew how to play you. How to use you to his and the agency’s advantage. The child prodigy of the woman who ruined your life for the agency and the empire.”

Derek’s aim wavered a little. He knew he wasn’t the same ever since the fall. He wondered how this was going to end if he did pull the trigger. Was he going to hit the glass, or was he about to put a hole in Stiles’ face?

“Did you think he loved you?” Jennifer fiercely uttered, narrowing her gaze. “Or maybe you thought you loved him. That you were finally capable of loving someone that would actually care—”

The shot rang out.

Jennifer turned to look at Stiles, seeing the glass shattered and scotch spilt everywhere.

Stiles’ legs were bent inward, his knees slightly wobbling as he fell back against the statue he was bound to. He could feel the shards of glass in his hair, the scotch running down the back of his neck.

“I didn’t think you’d take the shot,” Jennifer silently mused, displeased that Stiles was still standing.

“I almost didn’t,” Derek uttered. “A waste of scotch,” he stated with little emotion. He turned and threw the empty gun at the man beside Jennifer, catching the thug off guard as he moved to get his gun back from Ennis.

Stiles was disoriented, barely registering the skirmish. He tried to stand up right, to keep from toppling to the side. He could hear the helicopters far off, knowing that Derek used the radio he had given him.

There were a series of shots fired, Stiles knowing Derek had gotten his gun back.

Stiles looked up, seeing Derek pointing the gun at Jennifer. He also realized that Jennifer had her own pistol pointed at him.

“I’ll shoot him,” Jennifer plainly stated. “I don’t care.”

“Put the gun down,” Derek forcefully uttered as he took a step towards her.

“That’s not how the game works!” Jennifer snapped at him. “I get to have my vengeance on M!”

“She’s dead!” Derek yelled at Jennifer. “She died in a hospital, hooked up to machines. You don’t get to have that revenge on a dead woman.”

“Yes, I do,” Jennifer lowly uttered, pulling the trigger.

Stiles felt the bullet tear through the side of his neck, just as Derek shot Jennifer without a hesitation. He foolishly tried to grab at his neck when he felt the blood pouring out, but he couldn’t reach.

Derek ran to Stiles, sliding through the rubble to kneel beside him as he undid Stiles’ restraints. “Stay calm, if you panic, you’ll bleed faster,” he instructed Stiles.

Stiles fell into Derek as he pawed as his throat, trying to stop the bleeding.

Derek wrapped his hands around Stiles’ throat, applying enough pressure. “Stay with me, Stiles,” he almost pleaded. “Just stay with me,” he repeated.

Stiles tried to say he was sorry, only to have the words stuck in his throat. He thought it was funny, how he finally understood what Derek felt as he fell from the train into the water below. It felt right, to end like this.

~*~

There was a constant beep loudly cutting through the silence of the room.

Stiles stirred, pain suddenly hitting him like a freight train. He was sore all around, his body barely moving as an ache pulsed through him. He turned his head to the side, seeing his father sitting in one of the chairs beside the bed. He blinked a few times, trying to determine if this was real. He figured the pain was a pretty good indicator that he wasn’t dead.

“Stiles,” John softly uttered as he moved to stand, quickly getting over to his son’s bedside. He quickly pressed the call button for the nurse. “Don’t try to talk,” he quickly instructed when Stiles opened his mouth. “You have a feeding tube in, kiddo. Just give them a few minutes.”

Stiles closed his eyes, trying not to panic at feeling of the plastic tube crammed down his throat. He swallowed around it, making him shake at the panic rising. He focused on the feeling of his dad’s hand touching his arm, trying to forget about the pain and terrible sterile stench around him.

~*~

Stiles woke up again, this time no tubes in his throat, only a small oxygen line placed up under his nose. He slowly opened his eyes, looking at the chairs where he had seen his father last time. This time, he could better see the flowers in the vase from before.

They were peonies, his and his mom’s favorite. Of course, there was no note, though he knew who sent them.

Stiles turned to look beside him, realizing that Derek was standing by the window, inspecting the other countless cards and flowers littering the reading table.

“Did we win?” Stiles weakly asked, his voice hoarse. He was just glad that he could still speak at all.

Derek turned to look at Stiles, a small but happy smile pulling at his lips. “I think so,” he replied, moving closer to Stiles’ bedside. He settled onto the mattress, his hand resting on the part of the blanket covering Stiles’ leg.

“Just bringing me flowers now,” Stiles uttered, coughing a little bit at the dryness of his throat.

Derek wordlessly reached for the water jug, pouring some water into a cup before offering it to Stiles. He watched Stiles slowly sip at the water. “The other ones wilted,” he finally explained.

“You sent me more than one,” Stiles noted.

Derek dipped his chin, a fond smile on his lips. “I’m glad you didn’t die on me, Stiles.”

Stiles slightly frowned. “Are you?” He asked as he set the cup back on the tray. He was surprised when Derek looked betrayed by such a question. “Jennifer was right—I lied to you,” he elaborated.

“You’re not your mother, nor did you make her decisions,” Derek explained. “I made my choices, Stiles, and they lead me to this life. I accepted that my life was in your mother’s hands, and that if it was necessary, she would have to cut me loose.”

Stiles closed his eyes, leaning back into the bed. “I should have just told you,” he confessed.

Derek leaned over the bed, his hand pressing enough weight down that the mattress dipped, his arm brushing up against Stiles’ hip. He was hovering close to Stiles’ face, his eyes evaluating Stiles. “Maybe,” he answered. “But we should have told the higher ups about us, and we didn’t.”

Stiles groaned, finally looking at Derek. “Do they know now?” He asked.

“It’s in the report,” Derek replied.

“Derek!” Stiles quickly uttered, groaning in pain as he lifted a hand to touch his neck.

“Which they had to throw out because they didn’t want to take ownership for Jennifer,” Derek concluded. “So they know, but they can’t really do anything about it,” he allowed a smile to cross his lips. “And until you are better, you are on medical leave from the agency.”

“And what about you?” Stiles questioned.

“I’m …” Derek paused, thinking of his next words. “I’m on holiday.”

“Holiday,” Stiles deadpanned. “In a hospital.”

“Well, now that you’re awake,” Derek started, leaning in close. “We can make our get away to Switzerland.” He reached his hand up, running his fingers through Stiles’ grown out hair. “And start recuperating the fun way.”

Stiles smiled at that. “You’re dangerous, Mr. Hale,” he uttered.

“I like to think so,” Derek answered, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“What about Muse?” Stiles mumbled against Derek’s lips.

A distant meow came from somewhere near the bed.

“She doesn’t like carriers, I’ve discovered,” Derek explained. “But I think she’ll find it’s worth it.”

Muse angrily meowed at Derek’s voice, as if she understood and disagreed with his statement.

Stiles smiled. “I think I might love you, Derek Hale.”

Derek kissed Stiles again. “I know I love you, Stiles Stilinski.”


End file.
